The Violation of One Marisa Coulter
by NotTooClever
Summary: Mrs. Courier meets with Iofur Raknison. Warning, contains non-consensual bear sex.


This was Marisa Coulter's third time flying to Svalbard. She had made the first trip to meet with the new panserbjørn king and discern for herself how Raknison stacked up with his reputation, which so greatly preceded him. The second voyage was for the purpose of discussing the trade arrangements for the immense imported marble slabs that comprise the walls of Iofur's comically colossal palace, along with all it's garish interior decor.

In just two meetings, Mrs. Coulter had established the closest working relationship between the panserbjørne and any branch of the church to date. In fact, excluding mercantile contracts, Marisa was responsible for the biggest deal between man and bear in history. This was in no small part due to the fact that Iofur Raknison was not like the other bears of Svalbard. Before Lord Asriel would persuade Iofur to allow him instruments and comfortable living arrangements, long before Lyra would decieve him into giving up his crown, and before Iorek would trick him into thinking he was injured, only to deliver a fatal blow, Iofur Raknison was manipulated by another. Mrs. Coulter was the first to recognize in Iofur the desire to be more — to be man — and she was the first to exploit it. Once she realized he craved the same treatment and respect as human politicians and dignitaries she began playing him like one. Marisa was as practiced as any in the art of manipulation, and Iofur was the most powerful marionette she'd maneuvered yet. This visit however, would put an end to that.

Mrs. Coulter's third trip to Svalbard was the most heinous, vile, and terrifying experience of her life. She first sensed something was amiss not when her aircraft first arrived, but after she'd very foolishly entered the palace completely alone — save the golden monkey — as she had on the occasions of her first two meetings with Raknison. All the bears she encountered this time seemed to have an air of uncertainty about them, and seemed not at all at home in their king's new fortress. She was unsettled further upon entering the throne room; Iofur was different... He had always seemed slightly un-bearlike, but now, it was undeniable. Iofur Raknison sat slouched in his throne, his gut had swollen since their last meeting. She could not help staring as a gilded claw picked lazily at his teeth. He did not immediately greet her as he had in their previous encounters. The power between them seemed to have shifted. She felt suddenly bare and cursed herself for not bringing any security along.

Marisa gave a perfunctory bow, never taking her eyes off that talon, flossing those ferocious fangs. "King Raknison, something is troubling you." Mrs. Coulter's mellodic voice rang through the throne room, the sweetest frequency to reach the palace walls and the ears of it's occupants, possibly ever.

Massive paws shook the floor with their impact as Iofur Raknison slid from his seat and landed with the density of granite in front of the lady Coulter.

Even his voice had changed, it was astonishingly soft for a panserbjørn, and especially one of his size. "You've made good on all your promises..." he began, gesturing all around the building with a single sweep of his neck "...All but one. There's one thing you've failed to deliver." With long slow strides he began circling her.

"Name it my king, and it's yours."

"Your soul." The bear king growled.

Marisa was visibly taken aback and her golden counterpart shrunk to hide behind her. "I'm sorry?" Was all she managed.

"I told you when we first met. What I desire most... above all, is a dæmon of my own."

"Yes my King." She pleaded, "And please recall what I told you then; that as far as I know it is impossible. But as soon as I hear of a way—"

"_Enough_." The bear roared with what remained of his beastly nature. "Your dæmons take the shape of beasts. So what form should my dæmon take, as the king of all beasts?"

He posed the question as though the answer should be obvious, and as though that answer had a deeper implication still. She thought a moment as he slowly continued his circle around her, his claws and paws audibly scraping and thumping the floor alternately. The answer came to her at once and passed her lips automatically. "Human."

His hideous muzzle fissured in the most horrendously human grin. "Precisely." His voice still indicated there was something more to understand.

Marissa shivered and her dæmon clung helplessly to her leg as their realization came into focus. "And you want my soul... You want _me_ to become your dæmon?"

The great white king gave a short nod of his great white head.

"I'm sorry my king. But this remains an impossibility as well." And knowing the promise to be empty, she added, "Though if it were possible I would relish the opportunity to..." She searched for the words, "...to unite myself with someone so great." In a final desperate attempt to manipulate the mass of monster playing man, she reached out her hand to sympathetically stroke the fur of his neck.

"Oh, that is good to hear. Because there _is_ a way." The bear rumbledI

Mortal dread filled the woman and the monkey, who now gripped her calf tightly in his tiny black hands. "Oh?" She managed to steady her breath enough to sayi

"Our souls _can_ become one..." He said, bringing his muzzle uncomfortably close. "...You will be mine." The putrid stench of his breath made her gag.

A large paw rose to her chin and she felt the cool smooth claw between her breasts. It was gentle at first, before coming down hard and tearing her dress away with it. Marisa shuddered and covered her nakedness to the best of her ability, the golden monkey clutched closely to her breast.

"Stunning..." Remarked the beast.

A fury arose in her chest. She wanted to scream. How dare he?! The feckless, repugnant brute! What was his plan? Did he honestly think bedding her would make her his dæmon? Was that it?

Iofur's foul tongue slithered up her thigh and stomach. Her breast was lifted from the force of the lick and fell back with a perky bounce as his tongue passed over it. Even though she was furious, her nipple hardened from the stimulation of his rough taste buds.

"You will be mine." The king repeated flatly.

For the first time in years, and perhaps in all her adult life she thought, Marisa had no idea what she should do or say. She feared for her life should she use the wrong words. She felt stupid, and cursed herself again for thinking she could control this monster as easily as the men she so effortlessly made puppets of.

Iofur stood on his hind legs, displaying his full mass in contrast to Mrs. Coulter's relatively tiny figure. In that moment she had no desire to control him, only to escape with her life. He scooped her trembling form off the ground with a single paw, and carried her in that forelimb back to his throne, claiming his prize. His bipedal gate was slightly awkward, but she had no fear of being dropped as he took the last few steps and sunk with surprising grace into his slouched sitting position. The little golden monkey followed them closely, and sat pleadingly at the foot of the throne.

Iofur sat her in his lap like a frightened child. Each time he billowed and emptied his great lungs Marisa rose and fell a few inches. She felt an enormous paw stroking through her hair and down her back. The pads of the paw were rougher than the most calloused human hands, and warm soft fur poked between the digits. His caress was as astonishingly soft as his voice, complimented indescribably by the infinitely gentle way his claws combed over her scalp and down her spine, closely following the rough texture of the paw, and raising every invisible hair between her neck and backside. For a moment, lying completely undressed, enveloped in white fur, leaning into each of his deep breaths, and feeling his soothing paw travel over her skin, Mrs. Coulter nearly forgot her terror.

The king lowered his head and let his muzzle explore the woman's body. He drank her scent, pressing his nose under her arm and between her legs. Marisa's heart raged against her ribs as the bear's cold nose pressed against her. She was disgusted, mortified, but couldn't help feeling a little excited as well. Then came the tongue. With a practically effortless upward nod of his head he swept it along the entire length of her torso. He tasted her skin, now slick with perspiration, and made sure his tongue rasped over her erect nipple.

She felt his deep growl vibrating her whole body from beneath. Her scent was building and he could wait no longer, he buried his broad muzzle between Marisa's thighs, nuzzling into her and bathing his face in the wet warmth. An internal war raged between the side of her hatred, humiliation, and horror and the side of her genuine thrill and pleasure. The bear king used his strong tongue to lap repetitively at her groin. The rough texture was overstimulating in the extreme, making Mrs. Coulter wriggle and squirm. The golden monkey howled from the floor. She made fists in Iofur's pelt, and shuddered from loathing as much as her orgasm. When her legs ceased their spasms the beast lifted her petite frame and repositioned her in the center of his lap. As he lowered her body she felt him prod between her legs with something slick and warm. She couldn't make herself look down. She winced as she was lowered slowly and stretched open. She no longer felt like screaming insults and protests. She felt like crying. And she did. She felt utterly helpless, she just wanted it to be over, not caring how.

The picture of monstrous grotesqueness, repeatedly lifted and lowered the exquisite specimen of beauty. Marisa nearly passed out, but somehow through sheer will and abhorrence, stayed conscious the whole time. When the king reached release he let go of the woman and dropped her. Marisa squealed in shock as her whole weight fell on Raknison's throbbing erection, and her legs ran wet with hot fluid. A pathetic whimper escaped the golden monkey's prostrate body on the floor.

When hours had passed and Mrs. Coulter never reappeared outside the palace doors the members of her expedition became worried and went in after her. Though he was not immediately convinced, eventually Iofur conceded that his attempt to bind their souls had been a failure, and he let Marisa go free. She would never have her revenge though, the Consistorial Court made the decision that Raknison's palace on Svalbard was too valuable serving as a prison to risk their relationship with the arctic monarch, despite his heinous crimes. After giving it plenty thought she decided that Iofur Raknison could not have come to the conclusion that love making was a method of combining souls on his own. And again the Court denied her it's assistance when she requested an investigation be conducted into who could have planted that idea in the bear's head. She believed, though she wasn't certain, that she could have been set up, and if the power she'd established in Geneva couldn't help her, she'd need to find influence of another sort.


End file.
